Spot's Sister
by SpellBell
Summary: The story of Spot's life through his sister's eyes. Everything seemed to be going so well...so why is she running away?
1. Default Chapter

I touched the warm window and waved goodbye to the place I had known all my life. With a shaky breath I reached solemnly into a hand purse I had once been given and I pulled out my most prized possession. A photo of my family. I stroked it, as I might have stroked a cat, very lovingly. The three people who I had cared about ,for the part of my life that I remembered, were all huddled together in this one picture. It was obvious they too cared for me. All of them beamed up at me with love in their hearts. These people had been my family, and if I couldn't have my whole family then what was the point in having one?

That's what I was about to find out. I picked a person to examine first.As my finger fled to Spot, I smiled. He was much younger in this picture, his face still wearing that cocky smile he was ever so good at. In his pocket an all to well know trademark stuck out obviously, his magical slingshot. In one he gripped Ruth protectively her hand resting on his head absently. The other free hand of Spot's was not free, but held by a little girl who I knew was just looking for the assurance of her older brother. Spot's eyes were mischievous even then. But inside he was such a loving little boy, secretly afraid of the giant's great laughs shaking the skies.

In front of the little boy stood a little girl. Her hair could hardly be tamed by a brush, it was so full of curls and tangles. But in the picture, in a desperate effort to look somewhat tidy, she had drawn it into a tight ponytail, tied back with a ribbon. This way you could better see her emerald eyes twinkling with happiness, comfort, and a tiny glimmer of wickedness. But that was reserved for nasty little boys who deserved it. She had well sculpted cheekbones and fairly sized lips of a fair pink. Over her nose was a dash of freckles scattered around so carefully it was as if someone had placed them there. You could see the ambition in her eyes and knew, already, that she would accomplish whatever she wanted to. The girl's arm wrapped lovingly around the _other _girl.

Behind the wild haired girl was the mother. Her face glowing with the strength of this love. But really, if you listened to her at night, you could hear her asking the same question over and over... never getting the hint of a reply. And then after yet again receiving that same no answer question. Probably if you saw this picture, or had met her once in a market, you would shame me for having said such things, saying I MUST be making it up. There was just _no possible way _there could be any sadness or bitterness in her heart.

But I know her. I look at the details of her and I see the things I have once missed. In her smile, there is a frown. Under her eyes are dark circles, hinting at those sleepless nights. Her cheeks are drawn and her face is pale.

She never used to look this way, or perhaps _I just didn't want to see her this way._ Speaking of me, I am the girl next to the wild haired girl in this picture. My braids fell across my shoulders, my sparkling eyes twinkling in anticipation of what I do not know, I am wrapped in love as though a quilt is draped over me. My lips are full and a bit darker than my mother's. My brother and I shared my da's nose . We used to share a lot of things... that is before he changed.

"When is dis train gonna staht dumbass" someone's angry comments slashed through my thoughts as if a knife separated me . I noticed, for the first time, the smell of rotting eggs and heavy cigar smoke. As if it had imprinted itself on the seats. I noticed the seat I sat in was red, pink, and a curious blotch of orange stained my seat. The stuffing stuck out and angrily scratched the back of my neck. I shook my head thoughtfully.

What am I doing here? Everyone must be wondering the same thing. But I do know why, I'm running. Running from what already know and what I don't want to find out.

My blonde lashes caught my tears and some thought of me thought that if I allowed myself to cry, I would melt. Melt because the heat of my tears is too much. Looking down at this fading picture, I realize that, yes, my past and I will both eventually be forgotten so why not melt? Why not...


	2. Chapter 2

**Whisper, New York 1887**

Whisper, as they called her, sat by the fire. Watching it perform its precious dance. Her light wavy hair fell across and around her cheeks, her sea eyes sunny and smiling as the fire tried hard to impress her. Whisper knew how it felt when you were trying that hard to impress someone. She had been drawing this picture all night and the woman's beauty simply could not be captured. Not by a 4 year old at least. With this final realization the girl stumbled to her mother and explained it as best she could. The mother cooed and praised the artwork. stroking her daughter's hair and murmuring happy thoughts into her hair until she sat drowsily in her mother's lap.

"Will... will you sing to me about faeries" The mother gently rocked her chair and thought up a song.

'Round they slip, on their nightly trips

Into the eyes of many a child

Dancing rhythmically, hypnotizing

Those foolish men who want to try

Yet the children they steal up from the beds

Wanting them all their own

Mothers weep, by an empty crib waiting for their babes to come home

Across seas unknown and lands untold

the fae slip into the night

dancing wild, they set the child on moss

with its eyes still closed

Moons go by and grows the child

Raised by the faere ones, they do

Nurture and love feed sweet nectar

As I feed my sweet youthful milk to you '

The mother stopped short noticing the quick shallow breaths and the closed eyes. Sighing with relief she took both the child and the picture and set them in their proper places. With a last goodnight she turned to her little Irish boy with one arm loosely gripping his slingshot and the other arm tucked up beneath his chin holding the stuffed dog Spot. He would later explain his name had come from the fact that he had a damn good _selling spot, _and Whisper would later laugh at him for this. But continuing with the story...

She smiled lovingly and tiptoed out of the room, relieved to finally crawl into bed and rest her desperately tired body. She could feel the warmth of the quilts around her when a loud obnoxious knock sounded at the door. Ruth groaned inwardly and held it there. She smiled using all the skill she ever had as an actress and opened the door. It was an all too familiar face yet not too well liked. Ruth felt she should hear this woman out though.

"Ruth"she screeched "Oh Ruth hello! I simply must talk to you about something" She then let herself in. Ruth's smile dropped and she shut the door.

Whisper stared at the woman sincerely. She did not like her. In fact, she downright disliked her! her mother was generously being a courteous hostess and offering snacks, and counseling. Yet she knew this woman's husband and had known his first wife. They had been kindred his wife and Ruth.. and this new woman simply did not please her. She chatted annoyingly of her husband's children and how she wished she had no children in her life. She even once dared to say that her husband's first wife was "horrid... a lousy housewife... had a job and children!..." Ruth's eyes had blazed and Whisper had noted that her jaw was stuck out in resentment.

Later that day Whisper had commented on how strange it was that no matter when she came, or how often she came, she had never yet said Hello or even acknowledged herself and Spot.

"Well we must be nice" Ruth had spoken placidly.

"But I thought witches were evil" Whisper cried

"No Whisper! Witches can be good! Your talkin about bitches" He giggled. but he had no longer been giggling after being sent to the corner ,spoken to harshly, and no dinner! No dinner! He had noticed though that she had the hint of a smile on her face as she was speaking to him. Still he knew he should not say the word again.

One day Ruth had gone to run an errand or something, leaving the children in their warm beds away from the harsh winter and its fierce cold biting your nose and pinching your ears; when, once again, knocking sounded at the door. But this time it was timid, shy almost. With that Whisper quickly sprung out of bed and sprinted to the front door, her bare feet skidding the floor. Throwing open the door she say a huddled up little girl with tumbling dark hair seeming to melt onto her cheeks.

"May I help you" She said, remembering what it was her mother had taught her about strangers. But what harm could this girl so? She looked pitiful and helpless. Whisper wanted to help her... needed to help her!

"My.. my step mom left me here on this doorstep and told me never to come back home! Can I come in" She squeaked out in a small voice. Whisper squealed in happiness. She had a new sister!

"What's your name? I'm Whisper. W-h-i-s-

e-r! My ma taught me that! My brother's sleeping with his dog Spot, his stuffed dog spot. We call my brother Spot too! S-

o-t-t... no that's wrong. Anyway our last name is Conlon. Whisper Conlon, me, Spot Conlon, my brother, Ruth Conlon, my ma, and now... what _is _your name"

"Sketchy. Sketchy Jackson." She said it sadly. Whisper smiled.

"Well, now your name is Sketchy Conlon"

And so it was.


	3. Chapter 3

**_

* * *

_ **

New York 1890s On The Train

"Miss" someone nudged me "Miss" I shook myself awake groggily and looked up at the face of an eager young black kid. His resilience shone in his face and I suddenly admired him. That didn't mean I wasn't crabby though.

"Mmm whhhaatt" I know I sounded absolutely whiney but I couldn't stop myself. Besides, the kid wasn't faded at all. He just kept on smiling.

"Sorry fer havin ta wake yea, but is dis seat taken" He pointed to that curious orange blotch right next to me. There was something about this kid I trusted.

"Eh, why da hell not" I smiled brightly, or as brightly as I could. He flopped down happily and looked around, catching sight of _the picture._

"Hey.. who... who _is that?_ I know that face..." He was pointing urgently at my brother. I chuckled.

"Ats Spot Conlon."

"Ats _Conlon?_ What a youngstah'! Haha, yea I seen him round while I was in Brooklyn." He shook his head disbelievingly. "How d'ya know him"

"We...we used to be real close.." I murmured mournfully. The kid didn't hear my sadness. Though it was right in his face. Maybe I just know sadness so well I can see it etched onto people's faces. I wouldn't doubt it.

"You was one of his ladies, huh" I laughed outright.

"Not _his _lady. No... not his." I think the kid saw that I was someplace else because he shrugged and turned away. I thought of Spot in the good old days. Back before he had stopped carrying that dog around with him. I smiled, thinking how none of the guys knew he still slept with it.

**New York, 1889 Whisper**

Months and months of paperwork later Sketchy Jackson was now legally Sketchy Conlon, to the infinite delight of the whole family. Sketchy was happy and she sought out the imagination of her new sister Whisper often. Sometimes she would listen to Ruth tell a story and she would be curled up on one side of Ruth's lap while Whisper dozed off on the other and Spot would listen contentedly about the many knights conquering dragons and wizards and all sorts of neat stuff like that. They would all go to the beach and go on errands and listen to stories... and always together. Stormy nights were the best.

Tonight was one of those nights. The sky began to blacken with swiftly moving clouds crouching low in the sky, ready to pounce. Ruth lie in bed, reading, her feet were in the thick cotton socks she would wear on cold winter nights when the cold seeped into their bones. They were like two lumpy unidentifiable things sticking out from the blankets. She looked positively glowing, her round soft rosy cheeks and her curling glossy hair. She hummed a soft tune to herself and was licking her thumb to turn the page when she heard a door creak open slowly. Straining her ears and listening for any deft movement she heard none and shrugged it off, returning contentedly to her book. Then the door opened all the way and light seeped in. Slowly, she lowered the book away from her eyes and saw two little faces peering at her eagerly.

"Mommy" Whisper spoke very softly"There's black clouds! And I saw lightning! Sketchy did too, tell her Sketchy" Sketch nodded her head violently, for she never spoke more than a few words Whisper or Ruth sometimes managed to coax out of her.

"Aye, well crawl in bed and I'll tell ye a story." Her thick accent was beautiful and strong. Sketchy and Whisper snuggled down into the blankets and silently acknowledged the luxurious warmth, sinking in to it. Thunder clapped, as though the giants were giving each other an appreciative high five. Someone screamed.

"Was that you Whisper" Ruth asked.

"No, was it you sketchy" Sketchy shook her head gravely. They turned to face the doorway and jumped when a handsome little boy dove under the sheets, trembling. Ruth laughed, a beautiful laugh that rung in their ears long after it had ended.

"Fetch a blanket, rugrat" She smiled and when he had she began her story. On that cold night she decided she ought to tell the story of the snow queen. It was an exceptionally good book and Whisper found herself in tears at one point for the strong and innocent little Gerda. At the end of the story Ruth kissed them all good night and dimmed the lamp.

This odd family suited Ruth and the children quite well! The only thing that did not suit the children was this ridiculous new 'boyfriend', Fred. It was as if they were all watching some Alien creature take Ruth over. One who occasionally forgot to tuck her children in, or make lunches, or give out large sums of money to this anonymous Fred. Before ever meeting this man they decided he was to be hated.

Spot hated him more and for a different reason. He was ashamed. Ashamed that the mother who was supposed to know him so well would go off and do something as senseless as this when she had a perfectly devoted husband on his way to America. How could she forget about him? His da? The one who had given him his slingshot and his key, who taught him the language of the moon and the stories of the stars? The one who had bought that lovely brooch or these real pearl earrings? Spot had adored his father. He was still under the sad impression that his father was still on his way. When they had left him in Ireland he had sent them off, promising to follow. Well, they had waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. Ruth's outer facade never once in the midst of this changing under the critical public eye. That's why she cried almost each and every lonesome night. The thought that he was dead wrenched at her heart. The thought that he was still alive hurt her considerably more. But in Spot's eyes he saw his father as taking a while and his mother was shamelessly cheating on him. The fact that the man was a bad influence on his mother didn't help one bit.

The children were to meet Fred this Saturday, but they all were dreading it. Ruth had pulled up her hair in an absolutely elegant bun and had only little tendrils of curls floating in front of her angelic face. Whisper had her hair in a ponytail and was wearing a blue dress Ruth herself had made. Sketchy wore a green one and a long tight braid down her back. Spot had his hair combed and had a crisp, white, button up shirt and trousers.

Wearing an opal colored dress and her best pearl earrings, and a silver cross Ruth looked absolutely incredible. Spot's face burned. He had to bite his tongue and shut his eyes tight to keep stinging words from popping out and even more hurtful tears from falling. How dare she wear those pearl earrings? Whisper and Sketchy meanwhile looked up lovingly, adoration in their young eyes, convinced their angelic mother could do no wrong.

"You look" Whisper began.

"Beautiful"Sketchy finished, smiling brightly. Whisper grinned from ear to ear and nodded her head in agreement.

"Aye" An almost happy smile crossed her lips, then she quickly fixed her eyes expectantly on the door.

Without warning a warm blast of heat burst in along with a suave man just boasting immense self confidence. Despite the warm blast of air all 3 children felt a shiver go up their spines and settle in their hearts, as they looked at this man. He expertly tipped his hat to the children with a gleam in his eyes. They had all seen something unsettling in those dark eyes. Whisper felt her stomach shrink within her, clenching; unclenching. He looked at Ruth with hunger in his eyes and pressed her soft delicate body against his much too tightly, and covered her mouth in a sloppy, breathless kiss. The girls instantly turned away and grabbed Spot as he went to jump on the pervert. He growled.

Finally Ruth was able to push him away and catch her breath.

"You have such beautiful children" He winked at the two girls. They stepped backward. Ruth's cheeks lifted in a smile.

"Aye, children care to introduce yourselves" Noone made a move to do so. "Go ahead he won't bite" Fred smiled and whispered something into her ear. Something to make her blush a very deep crimson. "Stop it Fred" She tried not to giggle. It was almost disgusting. Whisper gulped and grabbed for Sketchy's hand as they walked up to him together.

"My name's Whisper, dis is Sketchy. She doesn't talk a lot." Sketchy glared at him. You didn't need words to understand the message.

"Why, hello girls. My name is Fred. Can you spell that" The girls gave each other an _oh please_ look and shook their heads innocently. "Oh don't be shy" Spot jumped between them, as Fred was about to corner them. Ruth had gone to the kitchen, leaving them alone with their introductions.

"My name's Spot" Fred looked baffled, and Spot loved it. The girls were jut relieved to have someone between them and _him._ Fred was suddenly all smiles once again and he took Spot's fairly small hand in his own large one. The shake was firm, too firm. He looked as though he were squeezing the life out of it. Spot bit his mouth against the cries threatening to come out.

"Spot, that's an interesting name. Is it your real name" Whisper was about to explain when Spot shot her a look that told her to shut her trap.

"Yea, it is." Fred grimaced.

"How nice" He said in a flat monotone, then let go abruptly.

"Fred! Children! Come eat" It was a small round table. Too small. Whisper sat between Spot and Sketchy, and across from Fred. On Fred's right Ruth sat next to Sketchy.

"This looks wonderful" Fred exclaimed as he heaped roast beef onto his plate greedily, then he shoved everything into his mouth without ever thinking about saying grace. His lack of manners was appalling! Sketchy sat picking at her food joylessly, while Whisper nibbled at her toast daintily. Sketchy was rasing a forkful of something to her lips when she felt someone touch her leg, fear shot through her body. Her eyes darted away from the food In front of hers and met the lustful eyes of Fred.

"I'm... sick." Sketchy excused herself courteously and refused the comfort of Ruth or Whisper. She felt she didn't want to explain any of this. And she wasn't lying, no, her insides were all tangled in knots and she thought she might barf if she stayed at the table. Whisper looked longingly up the stairs, knowing her friend desired to be with her thoughts(whatever thoughts they might be, Whisper did not know) alone. Sighing she turned back to her food.

"What's a mattah? Is the food not good" Whisper realized Ruth was gazing at her and waiting to hear an answer.

"Oh its very good" She felt a hand slide up her dress, along her leg. Unsure of what to do she stared at her food, trying to push the hand away. The hand slid up to her thigh, massaging it carelessly. She was unable to speak, and since she had lately been biting her nails they wouldn't prove useful in this situation. Spot dropped his fork, on accident, and he climbed beneath the table in time to see a large hand detach itself from the young girl's body. His _sister's _body. He slowly emerged from beneath the table, where dark secrets were kept, and when he was standing his face was grave and somber. He grabbed Whisper's hand.

"Where are yea off to" Ruth questioned.

"Whisper has to...uh, clean her room. C'mon sis." He pulled her to the shadowy hallway where he was sure they were out of earshot. He didn't want anyone to hear him and he certainly didn't want to hear his mother's flirtatious giggles and Fred's hungry growls. "What the hell happened in there" He demanded. Whisper remained expressionless.

"I don't know what your talking about" She had convinced herself that if she didn't admit this happen it would go away. She would keep it dark, then it would be all right. Fred and mommy would break up and she wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. If she didn't admit it happened, then it didn't. Deciding this she went to her room and cried.


	4. Chapter 4

_**New York, 1890s on the train**_

The landscape was blurry through my dark eyelashes. Tears streamed down my face in a salty stream of memories. A lump I was unable to swallow had lodged itself in my throat.

"So where ya headed" The kid turned to me and saw me in my pitiful state. "Hey wats wrong" he took me in his arms and I was unable to answer, I was lost in my own thoughts. Circling round and round on the memory merry go round.

**_New York, 1889 Whisper_**

"Kids? Fred's about to come pick me up and I wanted to make sure Sketchy was alright. Do yea know where she went off to"

"Upstairs, I think."

"No, downstairs"

Ruth sighed in exasperation and went to the staircase. She found Sketchy curled up in a ball with bruises all over her arms. She clutched her chest and sank down on her knees next to hear. "What happened" She barely whispered. "Do you need Fred to help, he used to have a very close friend who was a wide known doctor. He taught Fred a lot. Fred! Come here"

"I'm fine" She assured Ruth.

"Nonsense! Fred"

"What's happened" Asked Fred, gazing at her arms as if already knowing where the bruises would be.

"Tell us, darlin', how did this happen" Sketchy looked at Fred, his cold eyes shooting darts at her. He seemed to be warning her to keep her mouth shut.

"Stairs, I feel down them." Ruth nodded, clearly willing to accept this answer.

"Yea have to be careful" She went on about the safety precautions she should take and that she should have cried out for help. After all this she finally got up off the ground and with a few goodbyes was shoved out the door by Fred. She didn't seem to notice.

Whisper and Spot ran to her, demanding an explanation.

"He... he hit me! Fred hit me." Spot gaped at her.

"That bastard! I'll kill him, choke him to death, throw 'em off da Brooklyn Bridge" Sketchy laughed through her tears while Whisper just cried.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't know he'd hurt you if I left..." She broke into tears pressing her red crumpled face against Sketchy's and explaining to the both of them, for the first time, what had actually happened that night at dinner. Sketchy looked Whisper in the eye and Spot stood, unable to do anything but listen to them and realize how truly blind they all must have been.

"I know I should have told you. I'm sorry Sketchy if I hadn't left the table that night he wouldn't have hurt you." Teardrops fell from her cheeks. Sketchy wiped them away with her thumb, assuring Whisper he was a sick man and would have hurt them anyway. She was young and yet very wise. Too wise.

"Guys... what if he tries to hurt..." His voice cracked "Mommy" The girls faces drained to the color of starch white sheets. They decided, after a bit, that they would tell her right away. Hopefully she realized her purse was missing. Because it was. Sketchy sprinted out of the room and Whisper gripped Spot's hands shakily. Telling him he was the best big brother in the world. He blushed and mumbled something back.

"You go this way, I'll go that way. Tell me if ya found her" Whisper nodded and set off to do what her big brother wished her to do. Down a dark hallway she walked cautiously when suddenly a small firm hand grasped her and pulled her into the closet. She was about to release the pent up air in her lungs when Sketchy peered at her eagerly and hushed her. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Sketch what"Whisper began

"Its Fred! He's" The door creaked open and Sketchy grew silent and pale. Looking wide eyed at the door.

"I'm what girls" The door shut behind him.

The girls tried biting, scratching, hitting, spitting, hair pulling. And each time Fred would knock them down to the ground. Laughing as if it had only been a pesky annoyance rather than actual hurting. Finally after many times of knocked down they let themselves go. They went deep inside themselves and did not dare come out. They left with Fred's parting words.

"If you tell anyone, I'll hurt your mother. Bad" Whisper silently sobbed and went into the deep recesses of her soul. Awaiting the visions that patiently sat there.

**Is this a dream? **Whisper thought as she took in the low auditorium lights and a somewhat familiar stage. She could see devilish halos of smoke surrounding the audience. This was almost like one of those day dreams she was used to but much, much, more vivid. As she watched the vision play out before her eyes she felt as if she had aged at least ten years, if not in body then in mind, and she understood all that as before her and what must be happening to her. She was no longer a little girl, confused by what was happening to her, she was a young woman, and she was hiding from it, and so it would remain that she would always be more wise and a little more knowing than her fellow 6 year olds. For the time being anyway. Her mom had taught her about magic when she was very young and Whisper recalled what her mother had called a vision. This must be one. There were 2 girls on stage, and, with a shock, Whisper realized it was her and Sketchy...she ceased to think and watched this scene of her life play before her eyes... _She was singing with Sketchy. People clapped and applauded. They were older in her dream, and they had obtained curves. Especially Sketchy. She was wearing a V neck dress that revealed her cleavage shamelessly. There was a long slit that went up to her knees. The dress seemed to hug her voluptuous curves. Her wild hair was all curls, her eyes bright green and twinkling as they always had. A pink blush that never seemed to fade stained her cheeks and she looked gorgeous. Whisper herself had long blonde hair piled into a messy bun. Her eyes shone and were discernible in the lights as they devoured the emotions of all those around her. She wore a bright red dress that seemed to be painted on her slim body. She showed off her legs with slits higher than those of Sketchy. The audience loved her despite her lacking in chest. On her lips was a seductive grin painted with bright red lipstick.  
Whisper melted into the angelic voices she realized were her own and Sketchy's. The lights began to dim and a faint piano could be heard over the murmurs and catcalls of the all male audience. A deep voice began to sing of, what whisper gathered to be, lost love. _As Whisper listened she had the oddest sensation of understanding. As if she knew what it was hat they were singing about. She knew no age, only love. And it filled her with joy and pain so great she thought she would burst..._another voice, higher this time, sang along. The purity and soul of the higher and deeper tones struck the audience dumb. The lights came on and Whisper saw her older self draped on top of the piano, Sketchy playing it beautifully. Even as the song ended the dream went on... much to Whisper's delight.  
"Spell" a male voice called offstage. A look of sheer happiness lit up her face. _**Is my name spell**Whisper thought She guessed it must be. Suddenly all questions running through her mind came to an abrupt halt. _A young man ran toward Spell. Time froze. His hair was brown, he had beautiful caramel eyes. A cute pick mouth and a tan face. A cowboy hat hung down his back and he wore a trademark red bandana and a rope for a belt.  
_**Are we just friends? **Whisper thought. Hoping with everything in her that they _weren't. He smiled, as if hearing her thoughts.  
"Jack" Cried Spell jumping into his waiting arms. He covered her mouth with his and spell accepted, running her long slender fingers through his hair.  
_**Guess not.  
**_Gently he set her down, his hands still holding her waist, warmth shining in his eyes. "Ready ta go" Jack asked softly. Spell shook her head.  
"I hafta get changed."  
"Lemme help" he suggested. Spell smacked him playfully, leaving him staring after her. Whisper, still detached from that fanciful thing people called age, and understanding with every fibre in her being the wisdom of love and the way that one who was in love always had a certain aura around them and a new warmth in their eyes... all this she saw in Jack's eyes as he watched Spell...  
_**He's in love... with me.  
**_Giggles suddenly interrupted her thoughts Sketchy was in the arms of a cute guy with tousled blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. Correction; eye. His other eye had an eyepatch on it. The two looked absurdly happy. Sketchy got up and went to change. ..._

_Spell was now dressed in a clingy blouse and a red skirt. Sketchy had a looser blouse and a black skirt.  
"So, its pretty obvious you love Jack." Spell sighed deeply and a dreamy look came into her eyes. She nodded.  
"Its like, when Im with him, its magic. My stomach flips over and I feel like im invincible! Its beautiful... but so scary." Whisper knew what it felt like when the storms came and you felt a bone quivering tremble in your joints and a fear swelling up in your chest like a balloon about to explode. But this... what she felt now... was far more scarier... Sketchy seemed to understand also.  
"I can relate."  
"Your in love with him" She asked breathlessly. Sketchy nodded and then they were both dancing and prancing around and giggling like two young girls.  
"Thats amazin" Sketchy stopped, and Whisper watched as a pain so great filled her eyes.  
"I bet Ruth would be surprised huh? Do you think she would have liked the way he turned out? The way we turned out" Spell's face darkened and she held Sketchy. Lines suggesting sadness, that Whisper hadn't taken not of before seemed to deepen in their faces.  
"Im sure of it." Whisper was unable to comprehend why they were using past tense when they talked about Ruth. and She wanted to know more! Her body and mind began to reconnect, her vision darkened and faded to nothing.  
:  
_

She woke to find Sketchy next to her, huddled in the darkness.. They both cried.


	5. Chapter 5

This went on for many months. Whisper sinking into her fabulous visions and daydreams and Sketchy doing what Whisper thought must be the same thing. Briefly she considered calling herself Spell but forgot about it as Fred smacked her for saying something out loud.

One day, not long after, Ruth was looking for Whisper and Sketchy and Fred. She was dressed in a new dress and she had a basket in her hand stuffed with goodies. Ruth pranced about the house happily and went into her daughter's rooms in case she might be there. She put her ear up against the door and heard strange noises. Curious, she opened the door.

She dropped her basket.

Get out" she whispered. Fred came towards her arms outstretched, a smile plastered on his face. She backed against the wall. "Don't touch me, don't look at me, don't speak to me. I _will _get the authorities involved. Get out." Fred's face was growing a bright red and his eyes grew maniacal. He stepped towards her. An arm outstretched. "GET AWAY FROM ME" She ran towards the kitchen and grabbed a butcher's knife. "GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUUTTT" She raised the knife above her and chased him out of the house. He peeped his head in.

"DON'T THINK I WON'T DO THE SAME TO YOU, Ruth" Fred scolded. "I will be seeing you Ruth. Don't forget that." With a smile he skipped away. Ruth shut the door and bolted it. Sinking against it Whisper came out of the room with Sketchy and Ruth held out her arms to them. All three sank into each other and they all shed their silent tears for many of the same reasons.

**_A few months later..._**

"Mom, I'm going out" Spot called, his hand on the doorknob.  
"Oh no your not" Whisper and Sketchy snickered under their breath. Spot glared.  
"Moooom" Spot whined childishly"The guys are right there" The moment it was out of his mouth the wished he could take it back.  
"Bring em in then" Spot sighed heavily and gestured for them all to come on in. After about a minute four guys burst through the door. Everyone stood awkwardly until finally Ruth asked for some introduction. Spot growled softly, reminding Whisper of the day he had been 'magically transformed' into a dog. She tried not to laugh.  
"This is Cody" he pointed out a handsome young boy with dark hair and friendly eyes. "Mush" A boy with dark hair and skin and an angelic smile. "Blink" Whisper's eyes widened in shock. Could this be the same guy from the dream? The one Sketchy had been with? She pondered this thoughtfully until Spot introduced the last boy "and finally Francis. But he prefers to be called Jack." Jack's mouth was parted and he was staring openmouthed at Whisper. Whisper gulped, a million thoughts racing through her mind. JACK? Could it be _the _Jack? Meanwhile Blink was looking at Sketchy as one would look at a piece of art one didn't comprehend. Sketchy glared."Whaddaya lookin at" She snapped. He stuck out his jaw and puffed up his chest.  
"Nothin, whadda _you_ lookin at" He asked with a snarl.  
"You" Whisper and Sketchy laughed until again Ruth probed Spot to introduce her and the girls.  
"Sure, sure ma. Fellahs, this is me ma. Dese is me sistahs; Whisper and Sketchy." Mush and Cody stuck out their hands and Blink, after being elbowed in the ribs, followed suit. Jack still stared at Whisper, speechless. Spot shoved him.  
"Introduce yerself knucklehead" Jack cleared his throat and stepped towards Whisper.  
"Hi, call me Jack." She smiled up at him, wondering vaguely if she would marry him.  
"Hi, call me Whisper." For a moment the world faded around them.  
"I like dat name, Whisper" he tried it out on his tongue and smiled at the feel of it in his mouth "sgot a nice ring ta it." She blushed, wishing she had brushed her hair longer. Even so she stepped closer to him, so only he could hear her.  
"I think I know you." She whispered softly. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak when Blink began to drag him away.  
"G'bye... Whisper." She waved until she could no longer see him and then turned around to find Sketchy in her face.  
"Oh dear god."  
_:  
_That night Whisper sat in bed listening to the voices all around her. Voices, all telling their own story about being in love and what it felt like. Whisper noticed the differences and similarities and soaked up the beauty of the tales. Each spun as the thread of gold evening sky faded.  
"Whisper" Whisper looked around. The silence that followed afterwards saddened her for she liked hearing night's secrets.  
"Whisper" She shook her head and looked at Sketchy.  
"Yea" She asked, slightly annoyed.  
"I know you like Jack" Whisper sighed happily at the name. Sketchy went on. "But... do you... love him" Whisper started at the question. Considering it, weighing it in her mind. Her mother had told her that love was blind and knew no age, but could this young of an age know love?  
"Ok, well, I don't know" Sketchy's anticipated silence was broken by a disappointed sigh. Whisper went on. "I don't know now, but... when I'm older and I know exactly what it is that love is... then I'll know. And I'll tell you what I know." Sketchy seemed satisfied with this answer.  
"That guy Blink was pretty cute, huh Sketch" Sketchy snorted.  
"Yea... right. He was looking at me all strange..." She stopped as she heard Whisper's snores.  
"Night Whisp."  
"Mmm num num.." Sketchy snickered and drifted off into her land of dreams.


End file.
